Tuesday. Dreaded Tuesday.

Two months have gone by since Toby’s last visit to his oncologist. Two relatively good months enjoying his grace and charm. Hoping we have more time.

Now, it was time to do our two-hour trek to Scarborough, for his next checkup. Hoping, always hoping…

That morning did not start off auspicious. For the first time I would be making the trip alone with Toby. My wife would have to stay home and care for our dog, Daisy, who suddenly developed a bladder infection and had to be let out every hour or so while we waited to get her antibiotics from our local vet.

It was a hectic start. Donna gathered the vet-requested pee  (don’t ask) and ran it over to the vet for verification and prescription. I waited as the clock counted down to the zero hour when I would have to be on the road with Toby.

A cooler containing a sandwich, drinks and icepacks was prepared while waiting for the car to return. Me, calmly walking around the house trying my best not to trigger Toby through my body language that today was no ordinary day.

There he was on his favorite spot – a towel on my work-desk -- confidently curled, tail across his front paws. Just an ordinary day for him. Sleep, eat, trip to the cat box, lay on his human’s lap. It was the start of a good day for him… so far.

 

My better half arrived home with the car and the countdown began. Next, I prepped the cat carrier in the mud room where I could have the opening upright. Checked the locks on the carrier and then quietly shut the door behind me. Now the tricky part.

I approached Toby with a nonchalant attitude, as if I wandered in to my office looking for something, anything but Toby. I sidled up to where he was sleeping.  He opened an eye and looked me over. So far so good.

With a quick scoop I bundled him in my arms and started for the carrier. His body tensed against mine, claws slowly, but gently, pushing against my skin. No scratching, no bleeding, just a gentle warning from him that something wasn’t right.

We got him in the mud room and shut the door.  Now he was contained to one small room where we could easily get him if he got away from us. I pour all twelve pounds of fur and claw and bone into the carrier, not without a bit of cartoonish moves from Toby -- all four paws around the opening, refusing to go in. Not to mention the caterwauling had begun.

Toby was locked in his soft-sided carrier, pushing his head and paws with all his substantial might against the zippers, unsuccessfully trying to unzip them. I ran around grabbing a prepared travel bag with essentials and the cooler, and together we got the car loaded.

So, the two and a half hour ride to the specialist went without incident, and I handed over the carrier to the vet tech who greeted us, and then the nervous wait began.  Would he be holding his own against the mysterious cancer that had yet to show itself, other than the sloughing cancer cells ending up in his lymph nodes?

I sank into the well-worn leather and wood couch, with almost no support left in the seat -- a reminder of all who had come here before, with their injured or sick pets, nervously waiting for any outcome.

I chatted with the pet owners in the waiting room, and met their pets. Wonderful animals, loved and cared for by their owners. Oddly, all dogs that day – no cats.

The vet tech came to get me and led me to the exam room where Toby was waiting in his carrier, not on his best behavior. He was scratching and pulling at the carrier and yowling up a storm. He calmed when he heard me talk to him. I think the vet tech had a look of relief when she walked out…

 Soon the oncologist came in and presented the good and bad news. Lymph node size under his neck: stable. Not shrinking but also not growing either. The bad news: Toby’s kidney function appeared to be on the decline. Normal creatinine levels are between 0.6 and 2.4 mg/dL.  This day, Toby was 2.6.  Probably caused by the Palladia chemo treatment.

So now there are choices.  Keep him on Palladia and possibly risk a burn out of his kidneys. Change to an IV chemotherapy which would need a trip to Scarborough every three weeks, along with added costs.

For now, hoping the elevated creatinine was a ‘fluke’ we’ll continue with the every other day pill. And we’ll have him retested in a month at our local vet to see if his levels have changed (lower, not higher, we hope) and send that result to our oncologist. And then, only then, we’ll decide what to do next.

It was a quiet ride home for the both of us. Toby, exhausted by the events of the day, lay quiet in the carrier, happy to just be with me going somewhere and away from the vet. Me? I did a lot of thinking on that drive home. We knew if the cancer didn’t resolve with the at-home chemo, there would be other choices to be made. Nothing we wanted to contemplate until we were there.  We aren’t quite there yet, but “winter is coming…”

For Toby, he lives in the moment. Eating, sleeping, getting pets, being with me. I’m trying to do the same…